


FAMILY MATTERS

by PetLeopard56, Slasherfem



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetLeopard56/pseuds/PetLeopard56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slasherfem/pseuds/Slasherfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Admiral Kirk’s nephew is being sexually harassed by a superior officer, whose commanding officer is an old friend of Kirk’s.  But Kirk’s old friend is strangely reluctant to do anything about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FAMILY MATTERS

**Author's Note:**

> Here's something special for Christmas! One of the first collaborations I wrote with my husband back in 2005. It looks like a textbook study of sexual harassment because I was fresh from taking a sexual harassment training course at the NYS Division of Human Rights, where I work. The story is set in the “In-Between Years” between “Star Trek: The Motion Picture” and “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan”. Muchos gracias to my darling husband Pet Leopard (nice pussycat!) for his inspiration and assistance in writing this piece.

ONE

It was late December, a week before Christmas, at the end of another long day at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco, and Admiral James T. Kirk was getting ready to leave. As he was putting on his scarlet uniform jacket, his secretary beeped him from the outer office. With a weary sigh, he pressed the intercom button. “What is it, Jean? I hope it’s nothing urgent, I’m on my way out.”

“It’s a personal call for you, sir,” replied Ensign Jean Muller. “From your nephew.”

“Peter!” Kirk exclaimed, surprised and happy at the news. “Put him through, Jean! Then go home yourself. I know you’ve been here longer than me today.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” The young woman, who had reported for duty an hour before Kirk did to help him clear up his workload before Christmas, hastened to comply with the admiral’s order. 

The face of Kirk’s nephew, Lieutenant Peter James Kirk, appeared on the computer monitor on the admiral’s desk. “Hello, Uncle Jim,” said the red-haired, serious-looking young man with Kirk’s eyes. 

“Hello, Peter. How are you?” A smiling Kirk sat down and leaned closer to the monitor to get a better look at his only living male relative. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. Have they been keeping you busy on board the U.S.S. GANYMEDE? Too busy to keep in touch with your old uncle?”

Peter smiled wanly. “No, sir. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you during the holidays. You *do* have Christmas off this year?”

“Yes, I insisted on having Christmas weekend off when I learned your ship was going to be docked for repairs. Didn’t you get my spacegram?”

“Yes, sir. The thing is, something came up that I need your help with. I thought I could wait until I actually saw you, but after what happened last night—” Peter swallowed and looked extremely nervous.

“What happened last night?” Kirk studied his nephew’s face more closely and was disturbed by how he looked. He had dark circles under his hazel eyes and his red hair looked limp and unwashed, with that rebellious forelock they both had in common falling over his forehead. His eyes looked too wide for his face and the corners of his sensitive mouth were trembling. “Peter, are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I-I don’t know yet, sir,” Peter stammered.

“You don’t know yet? How come?”

“It depends on what Commander Drake has told Captain Vernier.”

“What has Commander Drake got to do with it?” Kirk knew that Drake was the acting science officer on board the GANYMEDE.

“Everything,” Peter said hopelessly. He suddenly blurted out, “Please, Uncle Jim, you’ve got to believe me! I didn’t start anything, I swear I didn’t! No matter what Commander Drake says, I didn’t start anything and I wasn’t asking for it!”

“Asking for what?” Kirk’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he regarded his nephew with growing concern, a feeling of impending doom making his stomach clench. “Peter, just what happened last night between you and Commander Drake?”

Peter swallowed and looked miserably at his uncle. “He started it, Uncle Jim, I swear he did! He’s been coming on to me for eight weeks now. I keep telling him no and he keeps coming back. He won’t leave me alone!” His eyes filled with tears as he stared at his uncle. “Please help me, Uncle Jim! I don’t know what to do! He won’t leave me alone and last night he tried to—” Peter hung his head in shame.

“What did he try to do?” Kirk demanded loudly, his paternal instinct fully aroused by his nephew’s plight.

Peter looked up at him with his hair in his eyes, looking very young and vulnerable, as he whispered, “He tried to rape me.”

“WHAT?” Kirk yelled. He saw Peter flinch at his response and hastened to reassure him. “It’s okay, Peter, you’re not the one I’m mad at. Are you saying that Commander Drake has been sexually harassing you?”

“Yes, sir.” Peter could hardly meet his uncle’s eyes, he was so ashamed.

“And last night he tried to rape you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk pulled his chair up closer to his desk and leaned his elbows on it. “Okay, Peter, start at the beginning,” he said grimly. “Tell me the whole story, starting from when he first began to harass you.”

 

TWO

Later that evening, Kirk stabbed at the lobby button of his apartment complex with his index finger. When Spock didn’t answer right away, he stabbed the button again and again. Finally Spock’s voice came over the intercom. “Is that you, Jim?”

“Who else?” Kirk snapped. “Open up, will you?”

Spock buzzed him in and Kirk stomped into the lobby like a raging bull. He stabbed the elevator button as viciously as he had the lobby button. When the elevator didn’t come fast enough, he smacked the button with his fist. “Ouch!” he muttered as the impact hurt his hand. He nursed it all the way up to his penthouse apartment.

The door opened before he could knock, which was a relief to his sore hand. Captain Spock, the admiral’s long-time friend and bondmate, stood in the doorway in his black silk half robe and lounging pants, holding a glass of Saurian brandy, which he offered to Kirk without a word.

“Thanks.” Kirk swept past him as he took the drink, heading for the terrace and its soothing view of the Golden Gate Bridge. He drank the brandy as he watched the sunset over San Francisco Bay.

If Spock had been human, he might have been offended by this curt reception. He certainly would have been asking a lot of questions about why his bondmate was so upset. But being half Vulcan on his father’s side had taught him the virtue of patience when dealing with such an illogical race as humans. So he left Kirk alone and went back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. By the time it was ready, Kirk had calmed down and was ready to talk the problem over.

He came in from the terrace just as Spock was setting the casserole dish on the dining table. “Sorry about that bad attitude I came in with,” Kirk apologized.

“From the tone of your voice over the intercom, it was logical to assume you were in a bad mood. So I poured you a glassful of the usual remedy and took care to remove myself from your vicinity, lest you should attempt to vent yourself upon me.”

Kirk smiled and shook his head with wonder at the far-too-accurate assessment of his character. “You know me too well, Spock.”

“After twenty-five years, I should think I know you well enough by now.” Spock went back into the kitchen for the salad. Kirk put his empty glass down and took off his uniform jacket, draping it over the back of his chair at the dinner table. He knew that Spock’s uniform was already neatly hung up in the bedroom of the apartment they shared whenever the ENTERPRISE was in port. Being bonded to someone for the last twenty-five years also helped him to gage your moods accurately.

*Spock and Peter both on leave at the same time. If it wasn’t for the trouble Peter’s in, it’d be a perfect holiday.* Kirk sat down at the table and put his head in his hands so he could think. *What to do, what to do? Should I get Peter transferred? Should I get Drake transferred? I’d love to bust his ass down to yeoman, but unfortunately he’s a close personal friend of Captain Vernier, who’s also a friend of mine. This requires delicate handling and diplomacy was never my strong point. Thank God for Spock; he can help me decide what to do.*

“Is everything all right, Jim?” Kirk looked up to see his bondmate regarding him from across the table, outwardly calm, but with strong concern visible in his dark eyes.

“I’m okay,” Kirk assured him with a troubled smile. “I just need your advice on a problem.”

“What sort of problem?” Spock sat down in the chair across from him.

“Peter’s back in town. He called me at the office tonight.”

“That should be an occasion for rejoicing on your part. Why do you appear so despondent?”

“Because he’s in trouble and he needs my help.”

“Then he shall have it. Along with mine as well. Your kin are my kin, and he is the only heir we both have.”

Kirk reached for his hand across the table and squeezed it gratefully. “I’m glad you feel that way. Peter’s going to need all the help he can get. It seems he’s made a powerful enemy on board the GANYMEDE.”

Spock raised one eyebrow in polite surprise. “Our Peter does not make enemies easily. He has always been an amiable youth, helpful, friendly, and considerate to his peers, and respectful to his superiors.” 

“One of his superiors seems to have misinterpreted his amiability. You remember who took over as science officer after Sorrel went on sick leave?”

“Yes, I believe it was a friend of Captain Vernier’s, a gentleman named Victor Drake.”

“He’s no gentleman!” Kirk said harshly. “He’s been harassing Peter since he came on board! He started with lavish compliments about his work in the lab, then he took to making personal comments about his appearance. The sort of things a man doesn’t usually say to another man, unless he’s looking for a male lover.”

“Indeed?” Spock’s eyebrow went up again. “Am I to understand that this man has been making sexual advances to Peter?”

“Not until recently. Peter, being the good sport that he is, took Drake’s personal comments in stride, even though they made him uncomfortable. He told me Drake wasn’t very popular with the science staff or the rest of the crew, on account of his snotty attitude. Most of the crew seems to think he was only made acting science officer as a favor to Captain Vernier. But since Drake seemed to be making a real effort to be nice to him, Peter thought he was just lonely and showed him the same kindness he would give any lonely soul. You know how he is with people who are troubled or unhappy.” 

Spock nodded. “Yes, and not just people. Do you remember all the stray dogs he insisted upon bringing home whenever he stayed with us during the summer?”

Kirk smiled. “Yes, and how it annoyed you to be woken out of a sound sleep by a hungry puppy crying for a bottle.”

“Not to mention all the messes I had to clean up while he was housebreaking his pets.”

Kirk laughed. “That’s our Peter! You’d figure a boy who was so kind to stray animals would be just as kind to people. But then Drake began to get physical. It started with an occasional pat on the back or a hand laid on Peter’s shoulder while he was speaking to him, little things a man his age usually does to show affection for a younger man.” 

“Just how old is Mr. Drake?”

“I called up his personnel file before I left headquarters. He’s a British subject in his mid-forties, tall, black hair, blue eyes, handsome in a brooding sort of way. Anyway, he’s British, so he’s supposed to be stuffy and standoffish. Except when he’s alone with Peter. After his first month on board, he started getting even more touchy-feely. Whenever Peter had to work late, Drake would come up behind his chair and start rubbing his shoulders. Or he’d be bending over the microscope and suddenly feel Drake rubbing his back. He’s even taking to sitting next to him in the officers’ mess and putting his hand on Peter’s thigh under the table!” Kirk looked disgusted. “Peter says he also hangs around in the ship’s gym, staring at him while Peter’s working out.” 

“Has he asked Peter to wrestle with him?” Spock remembered how much he enjoyed getting Kirk to wrestle with him before they became lovers, sublimating the pleasure he felt by telling himself it was merely the satisfaction of seeing his friend become so good at Vulcan wrestling. 

“Yes, once. Once was enough for Peter. He said the guy was too rough. Once he had him pinned down, he wouldn’t let him up until Peter managed to break his hold with that little trick you taught him.” Spock nodded in satisfaction. Kirk added with a smug smile, “He also told me that if that hadn’t worked, he would have used a couple of the dirty tricks I had taught him.”

“I seem to recall you were concerned about me being too rough on the boy when we worked out.”

“I was; he was only twelve years old. Why do you think I taught him those low blows?” Spock raised an eyebrow in indignation as Kirk laughed. “How else could a mere human stand a chance of escaping from a Vulcan’s grip?” 

“You never seemed to mind,” Spock commented, enjoying the blush that came to his bondmate’s face. 

“We’re talking about *unwanted* touching here,” Kirk reminded him, determined to stay on the track, “with our Peter on the receiving end. He’s a good sport, but he can only take so much. When he saw which way the wind was blowing, he started avoiding Drake. After that brief encounter in the gym, he made sure he never went there whenever he knew Drake was off-duty. And he tried to avoid working late so he could leave with everyone else at the end of his shift. That’s when it began to get ugly.”

“I assume that Mr. Drake interpreted Peter’s avoidance as the rejection it was and retaliated in kind?”

“And how!” Kirk said grimly. “He started piling more work on Peter, demanding he stay overtime to finish it. Then he started criticizing the quality of his work. The boy got so nervous and jumpy, he made more mistakes and got chewed out even more. Then Drake started to complain about what Peter did off-duty. It seems he doesn’t approve of a certain young lady Peter’s gotten very fond of.” 

“Really?” Spock raised an eyebrow in curiosity this time. “Is this young lady a casual friend? Or something more?”

Kirk gave him a mischievous grin. “I think I’ll let Peter answer that when he gets here.”

“Peter is coming here tonight?” Despite his demeanor, Kirk could tell Spock was surprised.

“He certainly is! I told him not to stay on that ship a minute longer than he had to. The minute they dock, he’s to beam down to San Francisco and head for home. If Drake tries to detain him, he’s to tell him there’s a family emergency and his uncle Admiral Kirk wants him home as soon as possible.” 

“Perhaps Drake will cease his harassment when he discovers that Peter has an uncle who is an admiral.”

“I doubt it. If he hasn’t figured out by now that Lieutenant Peter Kirk is related to Admiral James Kirk, it won’t discourage him. It’ll just make him more discreet.” Kirk wasn’t being conceited; he knew his name was very prominent in Starfleet, as one of the youngest men to make admiral due to his exploits during his tenure as captain of the ENTERPRISE, a position he had also been promoted to when quite young.

Spock looked at the Vulcan bean and pasta casserole he had prepared for himself and Kirk. “Shall I put dinner back into the microwave?”

“We might as well eat now. Peter’s not likely to get here before ten.”

“Very well.” Spock removed the lid of the casserole, releasing a savory smell. Kirk’s mouth began to water. “You may serve yourself while I fetch the salad dressing. I believe I shall also bring out a bottle of that wine Peter is so fond of.”

“Yes, I think he’s going to need it.”

Spock paused on his way to the kitchen to comment. “Do you know, even after twenty-five years with you, I still find it hard to understand why humans feel the need to imbibe alcohol whenever they are under stress.” 

“It’s a human thing,” Kirk explained. “It’s what we do to relieve stress, instead of killing the person who’s causing it.”

Spock regarded him quizzically. “Is that an attempt at humor, Jim?”

Kirk sighed. “I’m afraid so. And as usual, it flopped big time with you.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Go on, go on! Get the dressing and the wine. I’ll help myself.” As Spock went into the kitchen, he spooned out a generous portion of the casserole onto his plate.

 

THREE

Peter showed up at 10:30 p.m. that night, with a friend in tow. Kirk greeted him with a bear hug, during which the younger man playfully lifted him off his feet. He’d been taller than his uncle since he was sixteen. Now he was thirty-five and Kirk fifty-six, but to his uncle he would always be the little boy he had rescued from Deneva after it was invaded by flying, parasitical alien life forms that had enslaved the population, killing Kirk’s brother and sister-in-law for resisting them.

The last surviving male member of Kirk’s family stood looking down at his uncle, smiling uncertainly. “I hope I’m not imposing, Uncle Jim,” he said shyly. 

“Nonsense! You know you’re always welcome. Isn’t he, Spock?” Kirk said over his shoulder to his bondmate.

“Indeed.” Kirk moved aside as Spock came forward to greet Peter. He held out his hands palms up, the familiar greeting from parent to child among Vulcans. “Live long and prosper, kinsman,” Spock said. The last word was in his own language, a Vulcan word commonly used to address a nephew or cousin. 

Peter copied the gesture, but turned his hands palms downward to cover Spock’s hands. “Live long and prosper, Spock,” he said gravely, his hazel eyes meeting Spock’s dark ones on the same level. Spock regarded him just as gravely as he did a light mind meld. Sensing that Peter was under great stress, he projected calm and soothing thoughts to him. The worried crease between Peter’s brows became less pronounced and he relaxed, even smiled. “Thanks, I needed that,” he said softly.

Spock nodded and turned his attention to Peter’s friend. “Who is your companion, Peter?” he asked, one slanted eyebrow raised curiously. 

The other young man, a big, burly, curly-haired blond human with the emblem of Security on his Starfleet tunic, immediately came to attention when he saw Captain Spock’s eye on him. “Lieutenant Piers Kristopherson, sir!”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Spock told him calmly. “We are all off-duty here.” He mindspoke to Kirk: *And three of us are related.*

Kirk chuckled inwardly and mindspoke back: *Let’s keep that to ourselves until we know how much Peter’s told his friend about us.* Out loud he said, “Care to present me to your friend too, Peter?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir!” A flustered Peter took his friend by the arm and led him over to Kirk. “Uncle Jim, this is Piers Kristopherson. He’s in Security and he was on duty the other night when-when it happened.” Peter flushed with embarrassment. “Piers, this is my uncle, Admiral James T. Kirk.” 

Piers was overwhelmed at being presented to two living legends. The exploits of James T. Kirk and Spock had been a part of Starfleet Academy’s curriculum since he was a plebe. “G-Good evening, s-s-sir,” he stammered, his face becoming as red as his uniform. His rather prominent blue eyes and snub nose made him resemble a bashful bull, but a good-looking one, the kind that wins prizes at state fairs. 

“Good evening, Mr. Kristopherson.” Kirk smiled to put him at ease. “I appreciate your accompanying my nephew for moral support. A man needs his friends around him at times like this.”

“I-I’m not just along for moral support, sir. That is, I-“ Piers gulped, blinked his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m a witness, sir. I can corroborate Peter’s charges.”

“Oh, really?” Kirk regarded the younger man with more interest. “In that case, I’m doubly indebted to you. Why don’t you and Peter sit down on that couch over there, while I fix us some drinks?”

Peter and Piers sat side by side on the couch, looking very self-conscious, like a couple of schoolboys in disgrace. Spock didn’t need to touch them to feel their nervousness emanating from them like sweat. He sat down in the easy chair opposite the couch, avoiding eye contact with them to keep from making them more nervous. Kirk poured a couple of glasses of Peter’s favorite wine for Peter and Piers, Saurian brandy for himself, and orange juice for Spock. After passing out the drinks, he sat down on the arm of Spock’s chair, one arm wrapped around the chair’s back. “Okay, Peter, talk to me. Tell me what happened last night.”

“Sir, I-I already told you,” Peter stammered as he blushed with shame.

“Spock hasn’t heard it yet. And if your friend there was a witness, I want to hear his account too.”

“Come on, Pete!” Piers urged him. “If you’re ever gonna nail that bastard, you can’t be bashful. Your own uncle’s got to believe you, even if the captain doesn’t!” 

“You still haven’t told Captain Vernier?” Kirk asked Peter.

“No, sir, I couldn’t. I was too scared,” Peter admitted. “The captain has known Commander Drake since he was born; his father was an old friend of the captain’s.”

Spock said gravely, “A Starfleet captain should never allow personal relationships to influence his judgment, if one of his officers is accused of wrong-doing.”

“I’ve never known Jules Vernier to tolerate this sort of conduct on board his ship,” Kirk commented. “He’s never been the kind of man who would let someone slide just because he was a friend.”

“Drake said he would,” Peter muttered into his glass. “Before I left the ship tonight, he told me to keep my mouth shut or Captain Vernier would have me sent to the Romulan Neutral Zone, on his word alone.”

“Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with anything ‘cause he’s the captain’s friend!” Piers blurted out. “I beg your pardon, sirs. But things have been hard for us all since Drake came on board. Especially for Pete here.”

“How hard was it, Peter? Come on, you’re among friends now,” Kirk coaxed his nephew.

Peter stared into his wine a little longer before taking a swallow for courage. When he finally spoke, it was in a soft voice. “I told you this afternoon how he’d been hassling me lately, after I made it plain that I wasn’t interested. How he started piling more work on me to keep me in the lab after everyone else had gone, how he kept picking on me in front of others, nagging and criticizing till I was ready to go nuts. But when we were alone together, he’d start getting touch-feely again, promising me all kinds of things if I’d just come back to his cabin with him.” Peter shuddered. “I’m not a prude, Uncle Jim. I have nothing against gays. You, of all people, should know that.” Kirk and Spock exchanged a quick look with each other, then at Piers, who didn’t seem at all surprised by Peter’s comment. “But I have a girlfriend I’m serious about and—”

“Oh, really? Who is she and why haven’t I heard of her before?” Kirk smiled to see his nephew suddenly become very awkward. 

“We double date sometimes, sir,” Piers spoke up, “with Lieutenants Moira Cassidy and Rebecca Eisenberg. Moira’s my girl, Becky is Peter’s.”

Peter gave his friend a grateful look before going on. “Yes, Moira’s in Life Sciences and Becky’s in Botany. I used to go straight to Botany when I got off-duty to pick Becky up, until Drake started piling work on me. So then Becky started coming to the lab to wait for me, but Drake didn’t like her hanging around. I guess he was afraid she might see him coming on to me. He started making all these rude remarks about modern women being too forward, and how pushy females frequently forced a young officer into marriage before he was ready. He also made some veiled anti-Semitic comments that really set my teeth on edge. Becky was too much of a lady to say anything, but I could see how hurt she was. Eventually she stopped coming around.”

“Which was undoubtedly Drake’s intention,” Spock commented.

“I thought so too. That’s why I took to meeting Becky in the Rec Room when we went off-duty. Drake didn’t like that I was still seeing her. He kept trying to get me to come to his quarters, asking me to dinner and stuff, but I kept turning him down. It all came to a head last night. I’d spent all day classifying all the specimens in the Reptile Section and was just logging off at 1900 hours. I thought I was going to be able to slip away before Drake noticed I was gone, but he came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

“‘I knew you could do it, Kirk,” he said in his condescending way, like I was a schoolboy who’d successfully completed a difficult assignment. ‘Now that you’ve gotten that out of the way, we have the rest of the evening free. How about dinner in the Officers’ Mess?’

“I told him, ‘I’m sorry, sir, not tonight. Miss Eisenberg is expecting me in the Rec Room. I’m sure you’ll understand.’ I started to get up, but he shoved me back down into my chair. He pressed down on my shoulders very heavily to keep me seated, and stood blocking my chair so that I couldn’t move back from my work station. 

“I tried to stay calm and polite, even though I was starting to get scared. I said, ‘Sir, I’ve finished my assigned duty for the day. May I please go now?’ But he wouldn’t let me go.” Peter took a sip of wine and put the glass on the floor when he saw how badly his hand was shaking. Staring at his uncle with haunted eyes, he continued his narrative of last night’s events.

“He said, ‘Not so fast, Kirk! I’m not ready to let you go just yet.’ I told him, ‘Please, sir, my friend is waiting,’ and he said, ‘Let her wait! How do you expect to get ahead on this ship if you don’t make more important friends?’ Then he started stroking my hair and telling me what good friends we could be, how he could help my career if I just treated him with a little more respect then I had been showing lately.

“I don’t need a hammer to fall on my head, Uncle Jim. I knew right away what he was talking about. And I wasn’t going to play his game. I kept staring at my blank computer screen wondering what to do, while Drake kept stroking my hair and telling me how good he was to his friends, nice young men like me, who didn’t mind an occasional demonstration of manly affection. That’s when he unfastened the velcron flap of my uniform jacket and stared stroking my chest through my shirt.”

Kirk looked ready to kill, but he remained calm. “What did you do when he touched you?”

“I slapped his hand away and told him, ‘Lay off me! I don’t care if you’re an officer, you’ve no business coming on to me! Leave me alone!’

“He told me, ‘Don’t be a fool, Kirk! There’s no one here to see us. I’m nothing if not discreet. Now’s your chance to show me how much you enjoy serving on the GANYMEDE. You *do* want to go on serving on this ship, don’t you?’ He grabbed my chin and forced my head up. Then he moved a little to one side so he could kiss me, just enough to let me move my chair. So I backed it up and deliberately rolled it over his foot.” Kirk burst out laughing as Peter grinned sheepishly. “It seemed like the only way I could break his hold without hurting him,” Peter explained. 

“Indeed, the only logical solution,” Spock agreed.

“That’ll teach him not to mess around with a Kirk!” said the admiral. “So what happened next?”

“Drake started hopping on one foot and cursing me out. While he questioned the legality of my parents’ marriage, my mother’s virtue and my sexual preference, I rolled myself out of reach. My chair hit the lab table about six feet behind me and shook a bunch of glass beakers hard enough to rattle ‘em. I jumped out of the chair and got behind the table. I would have made a run for the door, but Drake was between it and me. So I kept the table between us, waiting for him to make a move.

“Sure enough, as soon as he could stand on his injured foot he came for me. He came around the table and tried to grab me, but I grabbed a chair and shoved it at him. It slowed him down enough so I could get around the table and head for the door. As I ran for the door I heard a glass beaker fall and break behind me, and the sound of Drake’s footsteps coming after me. He wasn’t cursing anymore, just panting like a wild animal chasing its prey. I was so scared I didn’t dare look behind me. I just headed for the door as fast as I could. That’s when Piers came in.”

All eyes turned to Piers Kristopherson. He took up where Peter had left off. “I was on duty last night from 1800 to 2100 hours. It was approximately 1900 hours when I patrolled the Science Department. I thought I’d better drop by the main lab first, since Pete had told me how Drake was coming on to him whenever they were alone. He scared off Becky with his nasty remarks, but he didn’t scare me. I just wanted to let him know that I was within shouting distance, in case he started bothering Pete. Anyway, as I was approaching the lab, I heard loud voices.”

“Whose voice did you hear first, Lieutenant?” Kirk asked.

“Pete’s voice, sir. It surprised me to hear him yelling, because he’s such a quiet guy. But I distinctly heard him say, ‘Lay off me! I don’t care if you’re an officer, you’ve no business coming on to me! Leave me alone!’ Then I heard Drake’s voice. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it sounded like he was trying to talk Pete into something. Something nasty, from his smarmy tone of voice.”

“Are you certain that this was not a purely emotional judgment on your part, Lieutenant?” Spock asked. 

“Believe me, sir, it wasn’t,” Piers told him earnestly. “I’ve heard that same tone of voice from guys trying to get over with a girl, guys who won’t take no for an answer. It usually ends with me having to peel ‘em off the girl. The next thing I heard was a scream of pain. I thought it was Pete and Drake was hurting him, so I started running to the lab. Just as I got to the door, I heard breaking glass and running footsteps. Pete almost ran into me coming out, looking like the devil was chasing him. Then I saw Drake’s face.” Piers whistled and shook his head. “He sure looked like the devil, all right! I never saw him so pissed! When I saw the mess in the lab and saw how upset Pete was, I put two and two together. So to distract Drake I said, ‘Excuse me, sir, I heard glass breaking. Was anybody hurt?’

“Drake looked mean enough to bite, but he managed to regain enough of his English charm to say, ‘No, Lieutenant, we just had a little accident in here.’

“So I said, ‘I’ll call Maintenance, sir. I’ve sure you’re eager to go to supper, the captain must be waiting on you.’ 

I did right to remind him of the captain; he straightened up and said, ‘Of course, of course! Mustn’t keep the captain waiting. Carry on, Lieutenant.’ He got out of there with his dignity intact, but his face was like a thunder cloud. When he went by us, I saw him give Pete the hairy eyeball and heard him mutter something under his breath that made Pete blush. As soon as he was gone, I asked Pete what he’d said. He told me Drake said, ‘This isn’t over yet, Kirk!’ I didn’t like the sound of that any more than Pete did.” 

“Neither do I,” said Kirk. “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to contact Jules Vernier and request a private meeting at my office. The outcome of that meeting will determine whether or not we press sexual harassment charges against Drake.”

“Why not call him tonight, sir?” Piers suggested. “I know his personal communicator code. All the Security personnel do, in case of an emergency.”

“Piers, we can’t bother the captain while he’s on leave,” Peter demurred.

“Why not?” Piers demanded. “His old friend has been bothering you on duty long enough! I say it’s about time somebody shook up the captain a bit.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, son,” Kirk told him. “Why don’t you give me Captain Vernier’s communicator code, then you and Peter can go out and paint the town with your ladies.”

Piers grinned. “They’re both visiting their families, sir. In old New York City. But we do have a date with them tomorrow night. Speaking of families, my folks are in Fresno, expecting me to check in at home before 2400 hours.” He gave Kirk Captain Vernier’s com code, then took his leave, urging Peter to call him as soon as he knew the outcome of the admiral’s meeting with Vernier. 

After his friend left, Peter picked up his Starfleet duffle bag from where he’d dropped it by the door. “If you’ll both excuse me, I’ve had a long day. All I want now is a shower and my bed.”

“Okay, good night, Peter.” Kirk patted him fondly on the back as he went by. “There’s casserole left over from dinner and snacks in the pantry in case you get the hungries during the night. Help yourself.” 

“Thanks, Uncle Jim. Good night, Spock.” The Vulcan nodded in courteous acknowledgement as Peter passed him, headed for his room at the rear of the apartment.

After Peter had gone to bed, Kirk and Spock both got on the computer, accessed the personal communicator channel and entered the code that Kristopherson had given them. Moments later the image of Jules Vernier, a distinguished-looking captain in his late seventies, appeared on the monitor screen. He did not complain about being contacted via his personal communicator code during his shore leave. However, the nature of the complaint did upset him very much.

“James, with all due respect, I must say that I find it hard to believe that Victor Drake is capable of such inappropriate behavior,” Captain Vernier said gravely, his French accent still apparent even after fifty years in Starfleet’s service. “I knew that he was homosexual, of course, but he has never been accused before of forcing himself on any of his subordinate officers.”

“Indeed?” Spock said dryly. “Perhaps the fact that they were subordinate to the commander was what caused them to be afraid to speak out against him.”

Vernier regarded him coldly out of pale blue eyes. “Mister Spock, I do not like where you are going with this. If you have no evidence, you have no right to make such an accusation.” 

“Gentlemen!” Kirk interjected. “We’re all getting a little heated right now. I recommend that we all get some sleep tonight and that we reconvene sometime tomorrow.”

Vernier nodded his white head slowly. “Very well, but would you please allow us to continue this conversation at my own place of residence? I think it best that we don’t involve Starfleet just yet.”

“Agreed,” Kirk said. “However, in the spirit of not involving Starfleet right now, may I ask you to approve extended leave time for my nephew until this matter is resolved?” 

Vernier wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. “Well, that is usually a matter for the department heads to decide. Since Commander Drake is his immediate superior—”

“Jules, I will not hesitate to go over your head in this matter!” Kirk told him angrily. “Either approve the leave time for Peter yourself or I’ll bring this matter up to your sector commander. And you can be sure that he’ll want to know every intimate detail about this whole incident!”

“Very well, Admiral, you made your point,” the captain said with a tone of resignation in his voice. “I will approve extended leave time for Lieutenant Peter Kirk.”

“Thank you, Captain. We will both see you tomorrow.” 

 

FOUR

The residence of Captain Vernier was located in a quiet, suburban section of Southern California. After exchanging greetings and helping themselves to a cold lunch left out for them by the captain’s wife, who was doing some last minute Christmas shopping, Kirk, Spock and Vernier, all in civilian clothing, gathered in the parlor with their quiche and iced tea.

Vernier was the first to speak. “I still find this whole thing a little hard to swallow, James. I have known Victor Drake since he was born; his father Henry (he pronounced it the French way) and I were old friends since our Academy days. We served together on the U.S.S. LAFAYETTE. In time, Henry married a charming girl, Patricia Boyd, from England’s North Country. They spent two happy years together, until the tragedy at Angus 4 claimed the lives of seven of our crewmembers, Henry among them. Patricia was never quite the same after his death.  
At first she was inconsolable. Indeed, at one point I feared that she was suicidal. But when she discovered that she was pregnant, it gave her something to live for. After Victor was born, she devoted herself to him. As he was growing up, she was always telling him stories about how brave and heroic his father had been.

“I tried to be a surrogate father to him, when I wasn’t away on assignment. While I was away, my wife would frequently invite Victor along on outings with our two girls. They seemed to be the only children who got along with him. I guess that I just wasn’t there enough for him; his mother told me how much trouble he had fitting in at school. He was always getting into fights, bullying and tormenting younger boys, being beaten up by their older brothers, disciplined by his teachers, frequently suspended for his lack of respect to his elders. Patricia thought that sending him to an exclusive boarding school, known for its strict discipline, would be the answer. It seemed to be a good idea, until he was caught with another boy in a compromising position. This particular school was of a religious order, so both boys were beaten severely, and Victor’s best friend—the other boy in question—was transferred to another school.”

Vernier sighed as he stared at his half-eaten slice of spinach quiche on the fine china plate upon his green trousered right knee. “So the years passed, but unfortunately Victor’s social problems just became worse. His mother thought that I should encourage him to join Starfleet, where he’d be able to learn real discipline and respect for authority. Victor idolized his dead father and myself so much, he was eager to enlist. So, with my recommendation, he was accepted at Starfleet Academy. He passed through the Academy training program with good grades, was able to pass the final exam the first time, and moved up the ranks quickly. I kept track of him through the years and stayed in touch with him and his mother, for his father’s sake. He seemed to be doing well; by all appearances, he had gotten over his youthful wildness and become a credit to his father’s memory. So when my science officer, Mr. Sorrel, was forced to go on extended sick leave after his accident on Tantalus, I thought that it would be a good opportunity for Victor and I to serve together.” 

Vernier paused to take a long sip of iced tea with lemon. “Things seemed to be working out well. Nobody had ever complained about his behavior. He was never the friendliest fellow, but he always did his job well. He seemed to supervise well, also. Did you know that four of the men who worked under him on his last ship, the U.S.S. WELLINGTON, had been approved for promotion by him? What does that tell you about Victor Drake’s command skills, gentlemen?”

Kirk, wearing a yellow outfit with a brown vest, and Spock, wearing a blue Vulcan tunic and trousers, exchanged looks of confirmation. “It says quite a lot, Jules,” Kirk said softly.

“Indeed,” said Spock, raising an eyebrow. 

Kirk continued. “Jules, it’s not as though I’m unsympathetic to Commander Drake’s difficulties while he was growing up, but I came to you because of the situation with Peter. There was not only his testimony involved, but the facts as he presented them were backed up by Lieutenant Kristofferson.”

Vernier sighed as he brushed crumbs off his white shirt, which crisscrossed at the throat. “I understand. Does Lieutenant Kirk request a transfer?”

Kirk shook his head. “Doing so may offer a solution on the surface, Jules. But the real problem goes much deeper. How do we know that those four men he recommended for promotion on the WELLINGTON weren’t simply victims of Quid Pro Quo Harassment—offered a promotion in return for their sexual favors?”

“It would explain why nobody has ever made a formal complaint against Commander Drake,” said Spock. “If he propositioned them and they complied, and he came through with the promised promotions, the last thing they would want to do is admit how they obtained their promotions.” 

“That’s right,” said Kirk. “Why rock the boat? Putting out for a superior officer is one of the oldest ways of advancing through the ranks. But it’s usually something that women do; for a man to admit he slept his way up the promotional ladder can be embarrassing.”

Vernier got up and started to pace the floor. “What do you want me to do, James? If I file an official report with Starfleet, Victor’s career will be over! I promised his mother that I would look after him; how would it look if I threw him to the wolves now? Shouldn’t we wait and see if this type of thing happens again? Perhaps a severe reprimand from me would—” 

Kirk interrupted forcefully. “Damn it, Jules, there may be other young officers out there who will be serving under Commander Drake! Not all of them will be interested in Quid Pro Quo! Nor will they have an uncle who’s an admiral in the fleet to rescue them if they refuse Drake’s advances! Who’s going to protect them?”

Spock added, “Perhaps they may figure it to be advantageous for them to submit and take the path of least resistance, rather than endanger their careers by their refusal. They may be unaware that they do have other options.” 

Vernier stopped pacing and sighed again. “I suppose you are right, gentlemen. I confess that I did have suspicions that he was doing this, but I did not want to believe it. It’s a shame that I have to bring him down now. In most ways, he is a highly competent officer.” He looked earnestly at Kirk. “I really don’t believe that he intended to hurt your nephew, James. Perhaps they were simply roughhousing and it got out of hand. Victor does have a tendency to play rough, you know. An unfortunate holdover from his school days, I’m afraid.”

“We’re not talking about two schoolboys, Jules!” Kirk said impatiently. “We’re talking about a 45-year-old man propositioning a 36-year-old subordinate and getting physical with him!” 

“Oh, come, come! Surely there is nothing threatening about a man petting another man on the back, or squeezing his shoulder. In my country, men embrace one another openly and kiss each other’s cheeks as well! You North American fellows are always so, what is the word, ‘uptight’, about your masculinity?” Vernier smiled indulgently. “You, of all people, James, should know the difference between a friendly gesture of manly affection and a sexual advance.”

Kirk’s face turned red and he opened his mouth to give Vernier a piece of his mind. Spock hastily laid a hand on his yellow-sleeved arm and mindspoke him silently: *Be careful, Jim! You will not help Peter’s case by angering his commanding officer!* Realizing that he was right, Kirk shut his mouth and let Spock do the talking. 

Turning his dark head toward Vernier, Spock regarded him coldly as he spoke. “We are both familiar with the gestures to which you refer, Captain Vernier, and have, indeed, indulged in them from time to time. But may I point out that on my planet, such blatant public displays of emotion are highly disapproved of, even between bondmates such as Jim and I. On Vulcan, you would never see a bonded couple, or even a pair of close friends, touching each other in public, except for the approved ritual embrace.” Spock demonstrated by shaking back the full sleeve of his Vulcan tunic and holding out his right hand with the first and second fingers extended toward Kirk. Kirk reciprocated by holding out his own fingers and touching Spock’s. A look of peace came over the human’s face, which lost some of its redness as well. 

Spock caressed his fingers briefly before withdrawing his hand and addressing Vernier again. “You see, we do know the difference between a friendly gesture and an invitation to intimacy. But your Mr. Drake seems to have gotten his signals crossed. He has been touching our Peter in a manner more appropriate for a suitor to his paramour, rather than a Starfleet officer to his subordinate. Or is it the accepted practice in your country for a man to put his hand upon another man’s thigh beneath the table as they dine?” Vernier’s shocked expression was its own answer to Spock’s question. “Do the gentlemen of France also go as far as to open their friends’ jackets and caress their chests?” Spock persisted. “While stroking their hair and preventing them from rising from their seats? All while murmuring affectionately to the other man and promising him benefits in return for a display of physical affection?”

“Victor has done all that?” a shocked Vernier asked. “Mon Dieu! It is even worse than I thought!” 

“You’re leaving out the best part, Spock,” Kirk said grimly. “Like when Peter was forced to run the wheels of his chair over Drake’s foot, then hide behind a table full of glass beakers and shove another chair at him before he could get away. And how Drake chased him all the way to the lab door before Peter’s friend showed up in the nick of time.” He glared at Vernier with eyes like amber flame. “If it hadn’t been for Lieutenant Kristopherson showing up when he did, I’m sure my nephew would have been sexually assaulted by Commander Drake. Obviously he’s not used to taking ‘no’ for an answer. The question is, what are you going to do about it, Jules?”

Before Captain Vernier could answer, a loud buzzing came from the door of the deluxe apartment, which was out of sight behind the partition that separated the living room from the foyer. “That must be Vivian,” Vernier said, meaning his wife. “She must have forgotten her keycard again. Could we please postpone this discussion while she is here? I do not wish to upset her; Victor has been like a son to her as well.”

Kirk and Spock agreed, both being unwilling to discuss such sordid matters before a lady. As Vernier went to answer the door, they communed mentally over what they should say to Vivian about their reason for being here. Just as they were agreeing to use the rapidly approaching Christmas day and their desire to see her and the Vernier’s children and grandchildren, they heard a loud, angry man’s voice out in the foyer. “Jules! Have you heard from the Kirk boy yet?”

“Victor, what are you doing here?” they heard Vernier reply in a confused tone of voice. 

“Just tell me if you’ve heard from the Kirk boy yet!” hissed Victor Drake. “Or his uncle the admiral!”

“Yes, I have heard from Admiral Kirk. In fact, he—” Vernier was rudely interrupted before he could tell Drake that Kirk was there.  
“You’ve got to do something, Jules! That redheaded bastard fled the ship only minutes after you beamed down, before I could convince him to keep his mouth shut! I wanted to make sure he didn’t go running to his uncle. Obviously I failed to make an impression on him. So you’re going to have to!” 

“Have to do what, Victor?” Vernier asked him wearily, in a tone of voice that said he knew all too well what Drake was asking.

“What you usually do, when some ungrateful young punk refuses my offer of friendship! Make him go away before he can file a formal complaint!”

Kirk stood up, clenching his fists reflexively as he gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the names Drake was calling his nephew. Spock rose as well, laying a comforting arm around his bondmate’s shoulders as he cautioned him in mindspeech: *Remain silent, Jim. Let us hear what else Mr. Drake has to say before we confront him.* Kirk nodded and crept a bit closer to the partition with Spock beside him, both men careful to remain out of sight of the two men in the foyer.

“Victor, I don’t think I will be able to make this one go away,” Vernier was now saying to Drake. “This time you have gone too far. Not only did you proposition an admiral’s nephew, which was *tres* idiotic, but the admiral in question happens to be an old friend of mine as well. He has already been in touch with me, and has described in detail what you tried to do to Lieutenant Kirk. He is demanding to know what I intend to do about it.” 

“But surely you can talk him round? You always manage to win people over with that Gallic charm of yours.” Now Drake’s voice sounded cozening, flattering, as he appealed to the older man to come to his rescue. “Even the renowned Admiral Kirk doesn’t stand a chance against you, Jules. You could talk your way out of a steel leg hold trap.”

“And you deserve to have your balls caught in one!” Vernier replied crudely. “Maybe that will finally curb your libido! I have told you over and over again to leave the young men on your ship alone! Stop fouling your own nest! Are there not plenty of male prostitutes in the spaceports you dock in, who are willing to accommodate you at a reasonable price?”

“I don’t want a whore!” Drake said disgustedly. “I want a clean, decent boy whom I won’t be ashamed to be seen with! Not some bleached-blond, painted fag who might give me a disease! If God insists upon making me a fag, then I insist on the right to choose who I’m going to be a fag with!” 

Kirk was stunned by the level of self-hatred that Drake was expressing, as well as contempt for other gays. Even Spock looked disturbed. Further speech from Drake proved that he was beyond redemption or reasoning. 

“You’ve got to help me, Jules! You always have before! Remember you promised my mother that you’d always look after me!” 

“No, Victor, not this time.” Vernier sounded both sad and disgusted. “I should have left you to your fate the first time this happened, to teach you a lesson about *noblesse oblige*. Experience has taught you nothing; you still insist upon making the same mistake, over and over again. But I will not repeat my mistake. This time you will have to answer for your actions before a Starfleet board of inquiry.” 

A stunned silence followed the captain’s words. But Drake recovered his aplomb quickly. “Not so fast, old man!” he said harshly. “If I have to answer for my actions, so will you! Don’t forget how close you once were to my dear Mummy! So close that that same board of inquiry might charge you with nepotism!” 

“Don’t threaten me, Victor. That was a long time ago. Even your mother is reluctant to see it brought up again. Surely you do not wish to embarrass her? And we certainly would not want Vivian to know about it, would we?”

“Oh no, of course not!” Drake said sarcastically. “We certainly can’t let dear old Aunt Vivian find out about our dirty little secret! Can we?” His voice took on a distinctly menacing tone. “You better not let me down, old man, or else I’ll have the distinct pleasure of telling your wife just how close you once were to my mother!” 

“Surely you would not be so cruel to a woman who loves you like a son?” Vernier said to him gently. “Remember how kind she has been to you, how she welcomed you into our home, treated you like one of our children?” 

“Yes,” said Drake bitterly, “Starfleet took my father away and gave me another mother in exchange. But I needed my father, not another mother! All of Vivian’s kindness couldn’t make up for the fact that she was only a substitute for my father! I’m sorry for her, and for the girls, but if I go down, I’m taking you with me!”

Kirk had heard enough. He came out from behind the partition, with Spock right beside him, and stood there glaring at the surprised Commander Drake like a bull getting ready to charge. “That’s enough, Drake!” Kirk told him harshly. “I’m sick of hearing you threaten my friend! And I’m just as sick of hearing you mollifying him, Jules! Why have you been protecting this ungrateful son of a bitch all these years? What kind of hold does he have over you? Tell me, you British bastard!” 

Kirk’s last statement made Drake flinch, but he managed to paste a smile on his face that was as phony as the charm he used to try to pacify the admiral. “Why, Admiral Kirk, what a pleasant surprise!” said Drake, tugging nervously at the round collar of his robin’s egg blue shirt as he shuffled his designer-shod feet on the carpet. “I do hope you’ll be kind enough to give me the benefit of the doubt concerning your nephew’s complaint. Not that I’ve anything against the boy, but he does tend to exaggerate a wee bit. Especially where discipline is concerned.”

“Discipline? Is that what you call threatening to have him sent to the Romulan Neutral Zone, on your word alone?” Kirk demanded. “Is that what usually happens to young men under your command who refuse to play ball with you? How many other young officers have you had transferred, with Jules’ help? And why should he be so willing to help you? What secret are you holding over his head?”

“Admiral, I assure you, there is nothing improper about my relationship with Captain Vernier,” Drake told him with a smug smile. “In fact, he’s been like a father to me. Isn’t that so, Jules?” 

Poor Captain Vernier looked as pale as a ghost; he stared at Victor Drake, then at Kirk and Spock, with haunted eyes. His pale blue eyes looked like painted glass in his white face. Looking from him to Commander Drake, Spock suddenly realized how similar in color Drake’s pale blue eyes were. In fact, they were identical. “Jim,” he said gravely to his angry bondmate, “I believe that Captain Vernier has been assisting Commander Drake because they are related.”

“Related? How?” Kirk asked. 

“Through Commander Drake’s mother. Is that not so, Mr. Drake?” Spock asked, looking him in the face with the unblinking stare of a Vulcan who has come to a logical conclusion. “Am I correct in assuming that your mother once had an intimate relationship with Jules Vernier, either shortly before or shortly after her husband died?” 

The smile ran away from Drake’s face as he stared at Spock unbelievingly. “Am I also correct in assuming,” Spock continued, “that if we were to do a DNA test and antigen scan, it would prove that you are not the son of Henry Drake, but of Jules Vernier?” 

“He’s Jules’ son?” A shocked Kirk stared at his old friend unbelievingly. “Jules, is this true? Is that the reason why you’ve been helping him avoid charges of sexual harassment all these years?”

“Yes, James, it is true.” A sad, defeated-looking Vernier avoided Kirk’s eyes as he spoke. “For twenty years I have been shielding Victor Drake from the consequences of his actions, because I did not want my wife to know that I had had a child by another woman.” 

“But Jules, Vivian adores you! And I know you worship her. She’s been a good wife to you and a good mother to your daughters. How could you prefer another woman to her?” Kirk was both saddened and disappointed by the fact that his old friend’s perfect marriage hadn’t been as perfect as it seemed. “Why did you do it, Jules? Why?” 

“Why? I’ll tell you why, Admiral!” Drake said angrily. “Because he took advantage of my poor mother while she was still grieving over her husband! Forty-five years ago, after his best friend, Commander Henry Drake, was killed in action by those savages on Angus 4, Commander Jules Vernier paid a condolence call on Henry’s widow. He spent all night consoling her! Afterwards he made her promise never to tell anyone what had happened, especially his loving wife, who was expecting their first child at the time. So when my mother found herself pregnant as a result of that all night condolence call, she passed me off as her dead husband’s child. And he’s been paying her to keep quiet ever since!” 

“I never meant to take advantage of her,” Vernier said sadly. “But she was so distraught over Henry’s death. She was crying hysterically, saying she couldn’t live without him, threatening to kill herself so she could be with him. She even started to climb out of the window of their flat, which was nine stories up. I couldn’t let her throw her life away like that, so I grabbed her, pulled her back in. She scratched and bit me like a wildcat, but I kept her from throwing herself out of that window. She kept fighting me until she finally collapsed from exhaustion, still weeping hysterically. I couldn’t leave her alone in that condition. So I stayed with her all night, offering what comfort I could. I knew it was wrong, but I just couldn’t leave her alone in that condition.” 

“So you left her in another condition, you dirty old man!” Drake sneered at him. “You just couldn’t keep your hands off a pretty woman who had lost her husband and had no one to protect her! She was all alone in that London flat, with no family or friends to hear her screams or stop you from forcing yourself on her!”

“I did not force her, Victor,” Vernier told him, with a quiet dignity more believable than a heated denial. “It was she who wrapped her arms around my neck and begged me not to leave.” 

“Indeed,” said Spock, “the fact that your mother never betrayed Captain Vernier in all these years suggests that she never considered him at fault for what happened between them. If she gave you any other impression, it might have been because she felt guilty over having betrayed the memory of her husband so soon after his death.”

“So you comforted a hysterical woman and went a little too far? I can understand that,” said Kirk. “But have you really been paying her to keep quiet all this time?”

“No; I sent her money every month for eighteen years to support the child, after she told me that it was mine. She told me I did not have to, that Henry’s Starfleet pension would be enough to support them both, and that no one would ever know it wasn’t Henry’s child. But I insisted on doing the right thing. A man must take responsibility for his actions,” Vernier insisted, holding his white head high with pride. “It was the honorable thing to do.” He turned to his son. “Which is why I can no longer protect you, Victor. It is time you learned the meaning of honor, what it means to be a Starfleet officer, who holds the fate of others in your hands. I blame myself for not having taught you better; I should have spent more time with you, as well as with the girls, while you were all growing up. Now you must all suffer for my mistake. Especially my poor wife. My darling Vivian—” His voice trembled as he pictured his wife’s reaction to the news of his infidelity. “How will she ever forgive me?” 

Drake was staring at his father like a lost child. “No, Father, please! Don’t do this to me!” he begged. “I know I haven’t been a son to be proud of, but I did my best! I joined Starfleet so I could be like you! I did everything I could to prove I was worthy of you! Ever since I found out you were my real father, all I wanted to do was make you proud of me.” 

“Then why did you act like a wolf in a sheepfold, once you found yourself in a position of power over other men?” Kirk demanded. “Your father took advantage of one woman and regretted it the rest of his life. But you’ve taken advantage of God only knows how many men, and you feel no regret.” Kirk felt disgusted as he looked from father to son. “Jules kept silent all these years to protect one woman’s reputation and keep from breaking another woman’s heart. When your secret comes out, you’ll break both those women’s hearts. Or do you think your mother will be proud of you when she learns what you’ve been doing, and how you forced your father to protect you?”

“Truly a son to be proud of,” Spock said sarcastically. 

Drake looked at them like a spitting cobra at a pair of mongooses, before spitting up poison at them both. “You two have the ballocks to accuse me of shameful conduct?” he hissed. “When the whole world knows what you two are, what you do together? How many pretty boys have passed through your quarters while you were still captain of the ENTERPRISE, Admiral? How many have you taken advantage of, Captain Spock? Don’t tell me you two have never used your rank to scratch your itch until you hooked up with each other!” 

“As a matter of fact, we haven’t,” Kirk told him calmly. “Neither one of us ever took advantage of our rank to have sex with unwilling subordinates. I even had a pretty blonde female yeoman during my first five-year mission on the ENTERPRISE, and I never laid a finger on her. Not everybody abuses the privileges of rank like you, Drake.”

“Rank may have its privileges,” said Spock, “but taking advantage of one’s subordinates is not one of them. A true gentleman would know this, without having to have it explained to him. Those who have trouble understanding this simple concept are the reason why we have sexual harassment training seminars at the Academy. Perhaps you were absent on the day your class attended one?” he suggested sarcastically.

Before Drake could come up with a reply to this, there came the sound of footsteps, the clicking of a woman’s high heels, outside the apartment door. “Vivian!” hissed the captain. “Gentleman, I implore you by all you hold sacred, please say no more about this matter!”

“Jules, she’s going to have to find out sooner or later,” Kirk told him. 

“But not now, James, I implore you! Please say nothing to my wife about Victor’s parentage, or what he has been doing to his subordinates.” 

“Only if Drake promises to say nothing to her himself. If he cooperates, perhaps I can help him skip the board of inquiry and arrange a discreet transfer for him.” Kirk stared at the younger man challengingly.

Drake grasped at this reprieve like a drowning man at a life preserver. “All right, Admiral, I promise to say nothing to Vivian if you’ll help me beat the rap!” 

The sound of Vivian’s keycard could be heard in the lock as Kirk added in a harsh whisper, “And stay away from my nephew! Or I’ll have Spock pinch you where it hurts!” The look Spock was giving him told Drake he wouldn’t mind doing this. That made him nod his head quickly as the door opened.

“Hello, my dears,” said the captain’s wife as she entered, a vision of mature beauty and grace in a lovely black taffeta print with red roses, a saucy red hat on her head, holding a full shopping bag in each hand. “I have returned from my Christmas shopping expedition. Victor, darling, how are you?” She smiled at him innocently, her violet eyes with their thick black eyelashes glowing with pleasure at the sight of him. 

“Hello, Aunt Vivian. I’m fine, thank you.” Drake managed to be polite to his father’s wife despite the strain he was under. He could feel three sets of eyes boring into him as he bowed over her hand and kissed it, just waiting for him to say something wrong. He knew that Vernier would never be so uncouth as to strike him in front of Vivian, but he had no such assurance about Kirk. And Spock was known to go to extremes where his human bondmate was concerned. So he was on his best behavior.

“I didn’t know you would be coming as well, Victor. Are you staying for lunch with James and Spock?” Madam Vernier asked as she set down her shopping bags, took her red purse off her left shoulder and set it upon the little table beneath the gold-framed mirror in the foyer. 

“Not today, Aunt Vivian. I was just passing through the neighborhood, you know, and I thought I’d drop in to wish you a Happy Christmas. Now I’m afraid I must be going. My mother’s expecting me in London tonight. If I don’t get to the transporter station early, it’ll be so crowded, and I just can’t bear to wait on line,” Drake babbled nervously as he backed away from her toward the door. 

“Well, give your mother my regards, *mon cher*, and wish her a Happy Christmas from me. It’s a shame she doesn’t have any grandchildren to fuss over at Christmas, like I do.” Her loving smile held a hint of reproach at Victor for not giving his mother any grandchildren. 

“Yes, well, I never did care for children, you know. Didn’t even like myself when I was a child!” Drake gave a forced laugh at this feeble joke. “I much prefer being on my own. Anyway, I’m sure Mummy sees plenty of children when she goes to those Starfleet holiday parties she’s always hosting. How they manage to talk her into it every year, I’ll never know! Good day, Captain Spock, Admiral Kirk, I do appreciate your putting in a good word for me about that transfer. Jules, thanks for all your help. I promise you won’t regret it.” Drake fumbled behind him for the doorknob, found it and opened the door quickly, inserting his tall, skinny self through the opening so fast that he nearly snagged his black designer slacks on the doorknob, but keeping his head inside so he could finish saying goodbye, a phony smile still fixed on his full-lipped face. “*Au revoir* Jules, Vivian. Happy Christmas, everyone!” He shut the door and beat a hasty retreat. Everyone in the foyer could hear him running down the hallway toward the lift. 

“Well! I wonder why he was in such a hurry?” Vivian remarked as she removed her hat and fluffed her hair in the mirror, still mostly black, but frosted becomingly with gray. 

“No doubt he is anxious to finish his Christmas shopping as well,” her husband said smoothly. “I see you have purchased the entire toy department for our grandchildren again.”

“Now, Jules, I didn’t buy everything for the little darlings. Only what I heard them ask Santa for, when I took them to see him last week. Their mothers are buying the presents for the older ones. I wouldn’t know which music discs to buy for this generation. All those synthesized instruments and that amplified screeching sounds alike to me.” She turned to greet her guests properly, smiling a warm welcome. “So unlike the Vulcan harp you played for us at our last soiree, Spock! I hope we can persuade you to play it for us again at our Christmas party?” 

“Madam, I would like nothing better,” Spock assured her with a gallant bow. 

“Then we can count on you and James being here on Christmas Eve?” she asked, looking hopefully at them.

“Of course, Vivian,” Kirk told her cheerfully. “We’re looking forward to seeing you and the girls again, and the children too. By the way, Peter’s in town for Christmas.” 

“Oh, how nice! Families should be together during the holidays. I’m so glad you’re all here, my dears. Especially you, Jules.” She enveloped him in an affectionate embrace, laying her pretty head on his shoulder. “Will you let James and Spock bring their nephew here with them on Christmas Eve, my love? I know it looks like favoritism, but James is such a close friend of ours, I’m sure that no one will think much of it.”

“Of course, my darling,” Vernier said as he embraced his loving wife, tears coming to his eyes. “Anything you want for Christmas is yours, *mon coeur*. Or at any other time of the year, for that matter.” 

“*Merci, mon amour.*” She kissed him affectionately, then turned to pick up the shopping bags. “Let me put these in the bedroom so I can wrap them later. Remember that you promised to put up the Christmas tree tonight as well, Jules.” 

“Yes, my dear.” Vernier rolled his eyes at the thought of having to put up the artificial tree and hang all the decorations on it, most of them handmade by their children and grandchildren over the years. “I hope that you gentlemen will remain to assist me?” 

“Only if dinner is included in that invitation,” Kirk told him with a grin. “Which reminds me, thank you for the nice lunch you left us, Vivian,” he called to his hostess as she headed toward the bedroom at the end of the corridor. 

“You’re welcome, James,” she called back, her red high heels clicking as she disappeared into the bedroom. 

When he was sure she was out of earshot, Kirk said quietly to his fellow officers, “All right, gentlemen, let’s finish up this nasty business so we can concentrate on holiday cheer, okay? Jules, I’m afraid you’re going to have to find another science officer to replace Drake. First thing tomorrow morning, I’m having him quietly transferred to the most remote Federation outpost we have. In return, I’ll persuade my nephew not to file any charges of sexual harassment, and make certain that nobody ever finds out you’ve been protecting Drake from similar charges for the last twenty years.” 

“*Merci*, James,” said Vernier with visible relief. “I hope you are not sending Victor to the Romulan Neutral Zone?”

“No, I’m sending him in the opposite direction, to the Klingon Neutral Zone on the western border of the Alpha Quadrant. I happen to know that there are no young officers assigned there; everybody’s a seasoned veteran over forty.” Kirk grinned maliciously. “Might as well make sure there’s nobody to tempt him. Otherwise it’d be like sending someone with a sweet tooth to work in a candy store.”

“A wise decision, Jim,” Spock told him. “Perhaps he will find more suitable companionship with someone in his own age range.”

“I doubt it; a man like that likes ‘em young, so he can control them better. Let’s hope he runs into someone strong enough to control him.” Kirk felt a vicious sense of satisfaction at the thought of Victor Drake either spending the rest of his days going out of his mind with sexual frustration, or forced to yield to someone more dominant than he was. 

“I blame myself for this,” Vernier sighed. “I should have made more of an effort to discipline him, instead of leaving him to be spoiled by his mother and my wife. Perhaps if I had sent him to a military academy while he was still a child—”

“Stop blaming yourself, Jules! Drake’s the one who screwed up, despite all the advantages he had. He’s paying for his own mistakes, not yours.”

“Oh, dear!” said the sweet voice of Vivian Vernier. “Has Victor been misbehaving again?” All three men turned quickly and saw her standing in the foyer at the entrance to the living room; she had slipped out of her red heels and into her pink faux fur house slippers, which was why they had not heard her approaching. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear that, Vivian,” Kirk told her, shamefaced. 

“Obviously,” she said dryly. “But it doesn’t surprise me that Victor is being transferred. I am only surprised that it took so long to happen. In the last twenty years, I have been approached by at least five Starfleet mothers whose sons were assigned to the WELLINGTON, all begging me to do something about my husband’s protégé, who was annoying their sons. It seems that Victor has been throwing your name around, Jules, whenever he gets in trouble for being too friendly with young men. His commanding officer would have had him up on charges years ago, if he didn’t fear your anger. He knows about your friendship with James, you see, and he has his own career to think about. So he has been forced to transfer the young men who complain about Victor, when he would have preferred to transfer Victor.”

“Oh, shit!” Kirk groaned, then apologized hastily for the profanity. “Sorry, Vivian! I had no idea what was going on aboard the WELLINGTON, or I would have put a stop to it long ago. The nerve of that British bastard, using my friendship with Jules to wiggle out of trouble like the worm he is!”

“I am afraid I must agree with you, James. As fond as I am of Victor, he has been a complete bastard. In every sense of the word.” She looked sadly at her husband, her violet eyes moist with tears. 

Vernier stared at her, aghast by the realization that she knew his secret. “Vivian! *Mon Coeur,* when did you—I mean, how long have you known?” 

“Ever since Victor was two, my dear. That’s when I overheard you talking to Patricia Drake on the communications link, when you thought I was putting our Lillian to bed. She was so tired that night, she fell asleep without asking for her usual bedtime story. So I tiptoed out of her room and went to join you for a nightcap. I entered just in time to hear Patricia thanking you for the birthday present you had sent Victor, along with the usual check. She also said that he had your eyes.” Tears were falling from her own lovely eyes by now. 

“Oh, Vivian, *mon amour*,” Vernier said sadly. “Why did you never tell me you knew?” 

“At first, I was afraid to,” Vivian said softly as the tears ran slowly down her face. “I was also very hurt and angry, of course. But mostly I was afraid that you would leave me and the children for Patricia, since she was so much prettier, and she had given you a son. When I realized that you had no intention of leaving me and the girls, that you were only supporting the boy because it was the right thing to do, I was so grateful that I vowed never to mention the matter. So I said nothing, even when you insisted upon having Victor visit us on school holidays, whether you were home or not. 

“I could not help feeling sorry for him; he was such a lonely little boy. He did not make friends easily, because he was overly sensitive, proud and extremely demanding. I believe he kept getting in trouble at school because he craved attention from you. I’m afraid I spoiled him as much as his mother did, to make up for his father’s absence. But he was always so nice to me, and Lillian and Margarete adored him. So after he grew up and was assigned to the WELLINGTON, I tried to ignore the rumors I heard from other Starfleet wives. Even when those boys’ mothers came to me for help, telling me what Victor tried to do to their sons, I did not want to believe it. Until I met a young man who had been transferred to Starfleet Command here in San Francisco. It was at a benefit dance for Starfleet orphans; his mother was one of the members of the committee I was on. When she introduced us, he stared at me so coldly. I will never forget what he said to me. He said, ‘Good evening, Mrs. Vernier. I suppose I have your husband to thank for me being here? I guess Commander Drake wasn’t kidding when he told me how close they were; how else would I have wound up back on Earth so fast after I told my captain what he tried to do to me?’” 

Captain Vernier looked shocked. “My dear, why didn’t you tell me this? I thought I was being discreet about arranging transfers for Victor’s—former friends.” 

“Apparently, Victor does not share your discretion, my dear. He has been bandying your name about shamelessly, using it to impress young officers with his ability to get rapid promotions for them, as well as to threaten them with disciplinary transfers for refusing him. I was ever so glad when he was assigned to your ship, where I thought you would be able to keep an eye on him and control him better. But it looks as if he has been misbehaving again. Who was it this time, Jules?” 

“Someone he never should have trifled with, my dear,” Vernier told her regretfully. “An admiral’s nephew, no less.”

“An admiral’s nephew?” Her eyes went immediately to Kirk. “James! Not your Peter?” 

Kirk nodded, a grim look on his face. Spock looked pained, but dignified. 

“Oh, my dears! I am so sorry! Jules, you should have had that boy disciplined years ago! Why didn’t you wash your hands of him after the first incident? Once you had seen that he did not inherit your sense of honor?” 

“I was a fool, Vivian,” Vernier admitted. “I loved him when he was a child, and protected him when he was a man, because he was my son. I know it would have been more logical, as Spock here would say, to have disowned him once I discovered his—predilections.” He grimaced distastefully. “But when it comes to my children, I find it very hard to be logical.” 

“Indeed,” Spock murmured, “that seems to be a universal constant among parents.” 

Just then Kirk’s personal communicator, which he always carried with him, even off-duty, suddenly beeped at his belt. He plucked it off, opened it up and held it to his ear. “Kirk here. Oh, Peter!” A smile came over his face, erasing all signs of tension. “Where are you now? With Piers, headed for the transporter station? Be careful you don’t run into Commander Drake there; he just left here to go to London via transporter. Yes, you better take your time getting there. Have a long lunch. By the way, he won’t be bothering you anymore. I spoke to Captain Vernier and he agreed to have Drake transferred. Yes, tomorrow, in fact. I’m sending him to the Klingon Neutral Zone.” Kirk paused to listen to his nephew’s comment and laughed aloud. “Don’t feel sorry for the Klingons! They teach their boys to fight a lot earlier than we do. Besides, I doubt if he’ll run into any young Klingons there. Or young humans, for that matter. There’s nothing but old guys over forty at Space Station Y-47.” Kirk grinned as he listened to Peter comment further. “Yes, isn’t it a shame? I’d like to see him try something with one of those Starfleet Commandoes. He’s liable to get those fat lips of his ripped off. Okay, have a good time in New York and give your Becky my regards. By the way, when do you intend to introduce us?” Kirk grinned again as he listened to an embarrassed Peter stammer something about waiting for the right time. “What better time than Christmas time? Tell her you’ve been invited to Captain Vernier’s home for a party on Christmas Eve. I’m sure he won’t mind if you bring a guest.” He looked up inquiringly at Vernier, who shook his head with a smile. “Jules says it’s okay. Be here by 2000 hours on Christmas Eve, and you better have that young lady on your arm. If you bring Piers, I’m going to start worrying about you. Remember you’re the last of the Kirks.” Kirk paused to listen, then laughed out loud again. “Never mind the good example Spock and I have been! Think of your poor grandmother in Iowa. You owe her some great-grandchildren, to make up for the disappointment that Spock and I have been to her. I’m sure that Sarek and Amanda are eagerly awaiting the birth of your heir too.”

At the mention of his parents, Spock murmured: “My mother can finally stop throwing eligible young females at him whenever he visits Vulcan.”

Kirk gleefully repeated Spock’s comment to his nephew, adding “You can always pass them on to Piers. Oh, that’s right, he’s got a girlfriend too. Well, then, I’m afraid the young ladies of Spock’s clan will just have to swallow their disappointment. Okay, Peter, I can hear the ground shuttle pulling up. You better catch it. Have a good time and remember, if you can’t be good, be careful. Okay, then, be good and careful! See you on Christmas Eve.” He ended the call, closed the communicator and put it back on his belt. 

“James, why did you not let me speak to Peter?” Vivian said reproachfully. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Vivian! I promise you can have him all to yourself for the first hour, when he gets here on Christmas Eve. Now, where is that tree you want put up?”

“I recommend that we finish our lunch first, Jim,” Spock told him. “I know from past experience that Yuletide preparations always take longer than expected.” 

“Hey, we don’t go to so much trouble anymore since Peter grew up,” Kirk reminded him. “We might as well enjoy preparing for Christmas here, where there are still children to enjoy it.” 

“After lunch, Jim, if you please,” Spock insisted. He led his bondmate back to the sofa to finish their interrupted repast, while Vivian joined her husband for some quiche and iced tea. The rest of the day was spent in joyful preparation for the coming Yuletide, with no further mention of Commander Drake or the trouble he had caused. 

THE END


End file.
